


No, I Don't Make It Easy

by where_havealltheflowers_gone



Series: Song Inspired Fiction [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anger, Boys In Love, Drunkenness, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Ian is basically a saint, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Talk of the past, and Mickey is difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:15:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/where_havealltheflowers_gone/pseuds/where_havealltheflowers_gone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey are living somewhere that isn't Chicago. </p>
<p>Sometimes Mickey wonders why the hell Ian is still sticking around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No, I Don't Make It Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Hard to Love by Lee Brice.
> 
> I don't care if they're OOC. I just want them to have nice things, ok!

(I am insensitive.  
I have a tendency to pay more attention to the things that I need.  
Sometimes I drink too much,  
Sometimes I test your trust.   
Sometimes I don't know why you're staying with me.)

 

Mickey was slouching against a wall in the alley next to the bar. He'd come out tonight after a fight with Ian, and was completely wasted. He lit a cigarette and tried to remember what the fight had been about.   
"Hey, hot stuff," an approaching figure whispered to him. The guy got close, breathing down Mickey's neck. "Looking for someone to go home with?"  
Mickey looked the man up and down before remembering he and Ian were an exclusive thing. He shook his head for a minute before it made him dizzy. "Nah," he said, "I have a boyfriend." He surprised himself by not choking on the word.  
The guy didn't back off. He pushed closer, into Mickey's personal space. "Don't see him anywhere," he murmured against Mickey's ear.   
Mickey was about to shove the guy away when he saw a flash of red under a nearby street lamp. Then Ian was right in front of him and the man that had been plastered to Mickey's side was backing off. Mickey smirked sloppily at Ian. "Hey, Gallagher."  
Ian didn't return the happy look. "Let's get you home, Mick."  
"Look," Mickey started, "that guy-"  
"S'fine," Ian broke in, "come on." He wrapped a secure arm around Mickey's waist, letting the shorter man lean on him almost completely.   
Mickey gazed up at the redhead, the edges of his vision blurry. "You're pretty," he mumbled drunkenly.  
"You're drunk," Ian replied dismissively.  
Mickey let his head drop to Ian's shoulder. "Still pretty," he insisted.  
Ian looked down at Mickey as they waited to cross the street. He grinned. "Thanks, Mick."

 

(I am a short fuse.  
I am a wrecking ball,  
Crashing into your heart like I do.  
You're like a Sunday morning:  
Full of grace and full of Jesus  
And I wish I could be more like you.)

 

"Shut the fuck up already!" Mickey snapped.  
Ian looked up, surprised at Mickey's anger. "I was only teasing-"  
"I don't give a shit," Mickey spat out.  
Ian rolled his eyes. "Calm down, Mickey, Jesus."  
Mickey set his jaw and breathed deeply through his nose. He clenched his hands into fists at his sides. Ian shook his head and went back to watching Tv, his feet propped up on the coffee table on their living room. "It's just a joke to you, isn't it?" Mickey questioned quietly after a few minutes, "Everything that happened, you think it was funny?"  
"Of course not," Ian said, muting the show he was watching and standing in front of Mickey. "I just figure, we can't change it. And I don't blame you for anything," he put his hands on Mickey's biceps, running them down the older man's arms until he reached his wrists. He tugged lightly on Mickey's fingers and laced them together with his own.   
Mickey stared at their hands, as if looking down was easier than looking at Ian. "You don't?" he whispered hoarsely.   
"Not at all," Ian assured him, "You were protecting me, I know that now." He bent his neck so he could press their foreheads together. "Look at me," he whispered. Mickey met his eyes. "I love you."  
Mickey swallowed and nodded, squeezing Ian's hand. "Yeah," he said after a bit, "Yeah, okay."

 

(I'm hard to love,   
Hard to love.  
No, I don't make it easy.  
And I couldn't do it if I stood where you stood.  
I'm hard to love,  
Hard to love.  
But you say that you need me.  
I don't deserve it,  
But I love that you love me.) 

 

Mickey reached up to stroke Ian's face with his index finger. "Ian?" Ian hummed in response, only half awake. "Thanks."  
Ian shifted, but didn't open his eyes. "For wha?" he asked lazily.  
"For staying."  
The corners of Ian's mouth turned up slightly. He grabbed Mickey's finger and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. "Always," he whispered promisingly.   
"Love you," Mickey murmured, like a secret. He fell asleep with Ian clutching his finger.


End file.
